


a truth so loud you can't ignore

by strangetowns



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Spring, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 01:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: There’s this feeling in his chest. Bram's felt it before. It’s not something he can name easily, label with a simple word like “happiness” or “contentment”. It’s kind of like if they were in a bubble, and he’s both on the outside and on the inside. On the outside, he knows this is a very small moment that’s happening between them. It’s not a turning point, nothing earth-shattering. Lives won’t be changed because of this conversation.That’s on the outside. On the inside, he can tell this is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life.-The people Bram spends his spring break with, and the feelings he can’t find words for.





	a truth so loud you can't ignore

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively: almost 9k words of dorky boyfriends being dorky during the spring break of their junior year. I believe this is one of the first times i've ever used the fluff tag on ao3 and honestly this is very exciting to me.
> 
> A brief note on canon - by virtue of the timeline alone this fic probably fits book canon better. However, it doesn’t particularly commit to any one canon events-wise, and if you’ve only seen the movie you should be able to follow along just fine! [e: An amendment to this note that there are also some backstory and details drawn from the book that are not in the movie. My comment mostly pertains to the fact that the particular version of plot doesn’t really matter for the context of this story!]
> 
> Thank you to [Allie](https://evakuality.tumblr.com/) and [Lyds](https://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com/), as always, for your wonderful beta reading skills. Title is from “[Youth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYAghEq5Lfw)” by Troye Sivan.

Bram almost wishes he’d had the foresight to skip his last class of the day before spring break. Figures that Mrs. Duke hadn’t actually planned anything aside from screening some obscure movie about World War II. As it is, half the people in his US History class aren’t even there. He almost wishes that were him.

He doesn’t actually, even if Mrs. Duke has a stupidly strict no-phones policy, even if he has no idea what’s happening in this movie and has no intention of ever finding out. Even if the seconds that pass him by genuinely feel like they’re causing him physical pain.

Some things are worth the wait.

Even if the wait means that his nerves are starting to evaporate into thin air.

All things considered, he thinks it's pretty impressive that when the bell finally does ring, he doesn’t actually sprint out of the room. His steps are slow and steady and his grip around the straps of his bag is firm, though his heart is beating a million miles a minute in his chest, though he’s barely breathing right now, though the anticipation has already started to unfurl inside his chest in a way that feels borderline explosive. Sometimes, he amazes himself.

Then again, pretty much all bets are off when he finally gets to the parking lot and finds Simon leaning against his car. He doesn’t sprint, still, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit his pace picked up, just a little, in his steps and in his heart.

Simon’s got his nose buried in his phone, thumbs flying across the screen, so he doesn’t notice Bram until they’re a few feet apart from each other. Bram reaches out and touches Simon on the elbow. It’s about as gentle as he could have made it, but Simon jumps, head snapping up suddenly and his eyes widening before his face settles into something like relieved betrayal.

“Jesus H. Christ, Bram,” Simon says, pressing a hand to his chest.

A laugh bubbles out of Bram, unbidden. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Simon says. “I swear you were a freaking ninja in a past life.”

“Or you’re just the most oblivious person on the whole planet,” Bram says.

“Oh, come on,” Simon says. He’s trying his best to sound offended, Bram can tell, but he’s also failing pretty badly at holding back a grin. Something pleasant and warm tingles in Bram’s chest, mingling in with the already-present excitement in a way that makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. “I’m at _least_ in the top ten.”

“Top five,” Bram says.

“Geez, I just can’t get a break with you, huh?” Simon opens the back door of his car, tosses his bag in and holds his hand out for Bram’s. Bram hands it over obligingly. Their fingers brush in a way that lingers, a moment too long to be an accident. Just a few seconds of skin against skin, but somehow it still feels meaningful.

“Nope,” Bram says. “Never.”

He could kiss him. Right here, right now. Lean in, press Simon against the side of his car. Get in close enough to taste Simon’s smile against his lips, the slow and sweet way it’d spread across his face until Bram finally pressed his mouth to it. It’d be intense, probably. But soft. Soft and warm and a little like a promise.

That’s not the kind of kiss the world needs to see, though.

And yeah, okay. It’s Georgia.

But also, it’s Simon. And Bram can’t just get into the car like the person in front of him isn’t Simon. So he presses his fingertips to his elbow again, feather-soft. Like a whispered confession. Gentle; weighted.

And he smiles, a long one so Simon can see what it says.

And Simon smiles back. And for a moment it’s like nothing else even exists.

It’s going to be a good week. It really is.

-

As Simon pulls out of the school parking lot, he squints at his yellow-dusted windshield in disgust. “Fucking pollen,” he mutters. “I’m going to have to wash my car _again_. It’s been a week, Bram! Mother Nature is committing a hate crime against me!”

“It all makes sense now,” Bram says. “Tree pollen and seasonal allergies equals homophobia.”

“Yes!” Simon nearly shouts, slamming his hands against the wheel. He’s worryingly enthusiastic about this concept. Then again, he’s worryingly enthusiastic about a lot of things.

“Just wait for it to rain, maybe?” Bram suggests.

“Okay, but rain plus pollen is somehow even grosser?” Simon starts gesturing wildly. Bram would remind him to drive with both hands on the wheel, but he’s on a roll now, and you don’t stop Simon Spier when he’s on a roll. It’s always a little magnificent to behold. “You know how it all puddles on the ground in these little mini lakes of horror and then it dries and suddenly you have these unholy streaks of dried up pollen down the side of the road? It’s like God has forsaken us and decided hell on earth is yellow _everywhere_.”

Bram thinks about that for a second. “Hm. Yeah, you’re right, actually.”

“Heck yeah, I’m right,” Simon sniffs.

Bram laces his fingers through Simon’s and brings his hand up to his face, pressing his mouth to Simon’s knuckles. “Heck yeah, you are.”

Simon turns his head, just for long enough to catch Bram’s eye, and there’s light in his gaze, a warm fondness that is now as familiar as it is thrilling to have it turned on him.

“What’re you looking at?” Bram says. It’s a poor attempt at teasing when his voice comes out that soft, he knows, but it’s not like he can help it.

“My cute boyfriend,” Simon says.

How many times has Simon said those exact words? And still, Bram’s cheeks feel warm as the sun.

“You should probably keep your eyes on the road,” Bram tells him. “The light is green, by the way.”

“Oh, shit!”

The car lurches forward, and Bram turns to the window, putting his hand on his mouth as if that could in any way restrain the smile he knows is spreading across his face. The window is halfway down, the breeze a wonderful reprieve against his sweating skin. It’s a beautiful day outside, the blooming trees a green blur as they pass by, the sky a vast and cloudless infinity; and he just kissed the hand of a cute boy, and the cute boy just called _him_ cute in return.

It’s been months, and honestly Bram still can’t believe this is his life.

And this is just what happens, now. This is just a thing. His reality.

And now they’ve got a week off from school. A whole week in the middle of the new spring.

Practically anything seems possible, at this point.

-

Dinner with Simon’s family is an event, as Bram has come to realize it usually is, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Dinner at home is always a quiet affair, just him and his mom and NPR playing in the background, and he likes it that way, likes how much comfort there is to be found in the silence between them and the easy, slow way they catch each other up on their days.

But he likes this too. Simon’s dad and his cheesy jokes that never fail to make Simon groan. Bieber running around under the table excitedly, nudging against pretty much everyone’s legs in the process. Nora and Simon exchanging long-suffering looks along the way. The constant chatter. All the people. And it’s like this every night, as far as he can tell. Which means the chaos has a kind of reliability to it in its own way.

He used to be pretty nervous about the very idea of sitting at this table. The fact that it almost feels normal now probably speaks volumes.

After dinner, Simon and Bram take the stairs two at a time up to Simon’s room. They’re going to have to abide by his parents’ open door policy, because when you’re in high school finding a good time to make out with your boyfriend at home is a lost cause pretty much from the very beginning. But Bram doesn’t mind that too much, either. He’s not really picky about how he gets to spend his time with Simon. It’s kind of a wonder he gets to spend time with him at all.

They jump onto Simon’s bed, and Simon pulls his computer onto his lap so he can look up a movie he wants to show Bram. Bram’s kind of glad Simon’s a talker during movies, because he is, too. It makes him feel less bad about making fun of the people on the screen if the person he’s watching the movie with actually laughs.

“So what movie are we watching?” Bram says, knocking their knees together.

Simon nudges Bram’s foot with his toes in response. “Something really cute and gay,” Simon says. “So we don’t have to make fun of the straight people for once.”

“What a relief.” Bram glances at the screen. “The Way He Looks?”

“You’re probably going to cry,” Simon says as he presses play.

Bram wraps an arm around Simon and pulls him close. “I’m okay with that,” he says.

Simon leans his head against Bram’s shoulder. “Tears of happiness,” he says. “Like, it’ll make you so happy and it’ll be so overwhelming you won’t be able to deal with it.”

Bram’s okay with that, too. Though in all honesty, he doesn’t know that he needs this movie to feel like that. In all honesty he’s pretty sure he already felt like that before the movie even started.

But he doesn’t say that. He just squeezes Simon’s arm.

And the movie plays on.

-

Bram covers Simon’s hand with his own, after the movie is over. Not quite holding it, really, but they’re touching. They lie on their backs like that for a moment, in the silence.

“I’m trying to find a word for how this feels,” Bram says.

“For how what feels?”

“This,” Bram says. “Us. And all this free time.”

Simon turns his head to look at him. “How does it feel?”

Bram has to look back, of course. And he has to take a moment to catalogue Simon’s expression, for safe-keeping in his memories. So he does. He looks closely, takes in all that he can, every minute detail. The soft slope of Simon’s eyebrows. His half-lidded eyes, lashes almost brushing his cheekbones. The tiny upward curve of his mouth.

There’s this feeling in his chest. He’s felt it before. It’s not something he can name easily, label with a simple word like “happiness” or “contentment”. It’s kind of like if they were in a bubble, and he’s both on the outside and on the inside. On the outside, he knows this is a very small moment that’s happening between them. It’s not a turning point, nothing earth-shattering. Lives won’t be changed because of this conversation.

That’s on the outside. On the inside, he can tell this is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

He runs his thumb along the ridges of Simon’s knucklebones, slowly. “Endless,” he says.

Simon turns his hand, pressing their palms together.

“That’s a good word,” he says.

Bram laughs. It sounds all breathy and hushed, somehow. He didn’t even know he was capable of sounding like that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Simon says. “All your words are good.”

Bram shakes his head. “You’re just saying that,” he says.

Simon grins, and it’s the most honest thing Bram’s ever seen.

“I’m not,” Simon says. “I’m really, really not.”

-

It’s kind of stupid, Bram knows, but he spends a lot of nights wondering what it would be like to share a bed with Simon, and tonight is no different. Neither of them have quite been able to explain - or wanted to, more accurately - to their parents that sleeping together doesn’t have to mean what they think it means. Sometimes, it really is just that.

That’s not to say he doesn’t think about that other meaning. That’s not to say he doesn’t think about that other meaning a _lot_. Sometimes he thinks about it so much it’s like someone could set him on fire and it wouldn’t make a difference. Either way, he’d be burning inside.

But it would be nice to have just one full night to themselves. One night to lie next together; one night to breathe and to be.

Maybe it’s for the best, all things considered. Bram knows himself, and he knows if Simon spent just one night in his bed, he’d never want to let him leave. He thinks it’s hard now, once he actually learns what it feels like, it’ll be pretty much impossible.

Still, that’s little consolation for a night Simon has to drive him home and then drive away. They sit in Bram’s driveway for a little bit, not saying or doing anything. Eventually, Bram says, “I should go, now,” and Simon nods, and stays still.

Bram leans over, and takes hold of the back of Simon’s neck and kisses him. It’s a quiet thing, and soft. The darkness is a familiar comfort. It’s always had this way of making everything feel so much more intense, so tender and wondrous. It’s like with the darkness around them this thing between them is something only they can have, and that’s what makes it so good. That’s what makes it so special.

Simon leans his forehead against Bram’s when they break apart. Bram can feel his smile, his mouth is so close.

“Text me when you get home,” Bram says.

“Okay,” Simon says.

“Or call me when you miss me.”

“Okay,” Simon says. He presses a kiss to the corner of Bram’s mouth, quick and warm. “Now get in there before your mom thinks I’ve murdered you.”

“I mean, I’d hope she has a little more trust in you than that, at this point.”

“You never know with moms, Bram. You just never know.”

“I guess not.” Bram smiles. “Good night, Simon.”

Simon catches Bram’s hand one last time, and squeezes.

-

The house is dark when Bram gets in, which must mean his mom’s already gone to bed. Maybe she really does trust in him, maybe she was satisfied with the text he sent her as they left the house and the three he sent after that to help put her mind at ease. More likely, she probably just had a long day at work.

Bram’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket as he takes his first step up the stairs. He pulls it out and brings it to his ear.

“Hey,” Bram says. “Everything cool?”

“Hey,” Simon says. “You said to call you when I missed you.”

Bram is kind of glad no one is up to see what his face is doing right now.

“You’re such a dork,” he says. “You’re probably not even out of the subdivision yet.”

“Turning left now, actually.”

“And I hope you have your phone on speaker.”

“Come on, Bram, what do you even take me for?”

“A huge dork.”

“That’s - yeah, that’s fair.”

Bram opens the door to his room and flings himself onto his bed. He doesn’t bother with turning on the lights. Right now, they don’t matter at all.

“I cannot believe I’m dating the hugest dork in the world,” he says.

“Come on,” Simon says, and because it’s Simon, the smile is so clear in his voice it’s almost like he’s standing right in front of Bram, or lying next to him. “You’ve totally had time to get used to it.”

“I’ll never be used to it,” Bram says. Which is fine, he reckons; he doesn’t really want to be.

“Well, that’s a shame, because I’m pretty sure I’m always going to be a huge dork.”

“A huge dork who’s also the best boyfriend ever,” Bram says.

A long silence over the phone.

“Only top ten, I’m sure,” Simon says.

“Nope,” Bram says. “You’re at the top of my list. And obviously, my list is the only one that matters.”

“You know,” Simon says, “I seriously just considered making a _super_ illegal U-turn just now?”

“Why?” Bram says, mildly alarmed.

“So I can come back to your house and break into your room and kiss the living daylights out of you.”

Something inside Bram’s gut flutters. Like a hummingbird’s wings.

“Well,” he says. “I think you should follow traffic laws like a diligent citizen.”

Simon gasps in pretend shock. “Following traffic laws is better than kissing the living daylights out of you?”

The question pulls a quiet laugh out of Bram. But in the end, he can’t bring himself to joke. Not about this.

“You staying alive is better than anything,” Bram says.

“God.” A pause. “God, Bram. The things you do to me.”

Bram could seriously say the same thing about Simon. The things Simon does to him can’t even be described with the English language. Or any of the other ones, for that matter.

“Tell me about them one day,” Bram says. “Tell me about all of them.”

“Don’t worry,” Simon says. “One day, I’ll tell you everything.”

-

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _Made it out of the hot seat with the parents!!_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _Nice job!_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_They’ve already got this whole weekend planned out though_ _  
_ _And then some_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _Oof. No time for sneaking out then?_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_No time for sneaking out :(_ _  
_ _Apparently we need to spend “quality family time” together whatever tf that means_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _Ah, yes, that pesky family time._

 **Simon Spier**  
_It’s probably for the best, anyway_ _  
I’m not the ninja in this relationship_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _The next time I see a gay couple I’m going to walk up to them and ask, “so who is the ninja and who is the most oblivious person ever?”_

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _The two genders are ninja and ignorance_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _Do you ever get the feeling that anyone reading our conversations would have absolutely no idea what anything we say means?_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_They’re not gay enough to understand_ _  
_ _But that’s the way it should be_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_That’s true, our gayness levels are probably top tier._ _  
_ _But yeah. That’s the way it should be. <3 _

-

The next few days are pretty chill, for the most part. It’s Easter weekend which means going to church is kind of mandatory, but that’s fine, honestly. Bram still manages to get a lot of sleep, catching up on late nights from all the brutal tests his teachers made him take before spring break. The plus side to every teacher in the universe deciding they should get their crap together before the break is that now Bram has almost no homework. Of course, he could always start studying for the AP exams coming up in May. Then again, after all the SAT prep mayhem his life has been this semester, he’s pretty done with standardized testing.

So, a lot of the weekend he spends napping. And texting Simon.

Sunday night, Mom is so frazzled they end up ordering pizza from Papa John’s, piling it up paper plates next to some chocolate eggs and eating off their laps in the living room as CNN plays on the TV. Neither of them are really paying attention to the news, but Bram doesn’t know what else to change the channel to.

“So I was thinking,” Mom says, rubbing at her eyes.

Bram looks up at her. “Hm?”

“I was thinking a vacation would be nice this weekend,” Mom says.

“Really?”

He’s staring, he knows, but he can’t help it. They’re usually the kind of family to plan this kind of thing months into advance, at least.

“Lord knows I could use a day off or two,” she sighs. “How does Myrtle Beach sound?”

“That sounds…” Bram smiles. “That sounds like a great idea, mom.”

“Okay.” She breathes out. “Let’s go to Myrtle Beach.”

Bram decides he likes the sound of that sentence. He leans his head back toward the ceiling. Sand under his feet, the ocean beating its endless song against the shore. Yeah, he likes the sound of that.

-

The next morning finds Bram at soccer practice with Garrett. It’s not exactly something they planned, but then again when it comes to Garrett it rarely ever is. All it takes is one facetious text message about how walking up the stairs is already getting difficult, and the next thing Bram knows Garrett’s pulling into his driveway, insisting that they have to stay in shape for the next soccer game after the break and not taking no - like, seriously, no, Bram was really enjoying this staying in bed until past ten thing - for an answer.

Which is entirely fair, even if Garrett’s basically chosen to stage the extra practice as a kidnapping.

So they drive to the park. It’s a beautiful day, even for April, the sun already high in the sky and wreathed with wispy white clouds. It’s in the high sixties temperature-wise, which is pretty much perfect. And again, kind of surprising for April. What with global warming and all Bram was almost expecting to die from heat stroke by the end of the month.

It takes just a few minutes of running around, a couple of laps around the trails to warm up as they usually do, for Bram to start feeling grateful that Garrett decided to drag him out of the house today. Stockholm syndrome, perhaps, if he was feeling cheeky enough to think that. Or maybe it’s just that Bram likes how good it feels to shake the sun back into his bones, when the ground is solid under his feet and the ever-present tightness in his chest is getting looser and looser with each stride. Sweat crawls into the space between his back and his shirt, but that’s fine, that’s good, that’s what it’s supposed to do. That’s how he knows he’s doing this right.

When he’s running, it’s like he’s learning how to breathe again.

-

After a while, Garrett busts out the soccer ball. In principle it’d be a pain in the ass to stage a one on one scrimmage, but they’ve played together for so long, it’s nothing new. The rhythm of familiarity settles easily over Bram’s shoulders, and it isn’t long before he can lose himself in it entirely and let pure physical instinct drive him. Kick the ball here, intercept the pass there. Anticipate Garrett’s movements like a shadow. Step, step, kick. Breathe.

Half an hour of play, and then a break. Garrett gives the ball a sharp kick so that it rolls somewhere near their bags. Then he falls on his back, and heaves a long sigh. Bram sits on the ground next to him, letting his weight rest on his hands behind him. He tilts his head toward the sun and squints at it. It really is a damn good day.

“Can you believe,” Garrett says, “that the season is almost over?”

Bram pulls some grass from its roots and throws it over Garrett’s face, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. “Stop that.”

“And then it’ll be our senior year,” Garrett says, brushing the grass off his face with one hand but otherwise ignoring Bram entirely. “And then our last ever soccer season. And then graduation.” He pauses. “Holy shit.”

He’s been having a lot of moments like this recently, these mini-existential crises, which Bram may or may not find a little ridiculous considering junior year isn’t even over yet.

Only a little, though, because on one level, he thinks he gets it. After all, he’s been in public school for pretty much as long as he can remember. Trying to imagine life beyond that is daunting at best and pretty much impossible at worst.

But that’s what makes it so hard to conceptualize high school just ending like that. He’s never graduated high school before; he has no idea what that’s like.

It might be scary, if he let himself thought about it. The thing is, he doesn’t really know how to think about it.

“It’s pretty weird,” Bram admits. “Coach always says to play each game like it’s our last, but one day it’ll actually _be_ our last.”

“You’ll still play in college, won’t you?” Garrett says.

Bram shrugs, noncommittal. Honestly, he hasn’t really thought about it too much. It might be nice to keep doing the same things he’s always done. It might be nice, also, to do something completely different. Maybe even try to become a different person.

Neither of those options seem to really fit him, to be fair. He suspects when he finally gets there, he’ll seek the middle ground, like he often does.

But he’s not there yet. So really, his guess as to what’s going to happen in the future is as good as anyone else’s.

Garrett nods, as if he was expecting that answer, or more accurately, no answer at all. “Do you think we’ll still be friends in college?”

Now, this question, Bram didn’t expect. It’s jarring enough that he has to stop and actually think about it. He hasn’t really thought about the people he might lose or the people he might keep after high school, either. But it occurs to him now that maybe it’s something worth thinking about, because loss when it comes to people is a very real possibility for anyone, with anyone.

He knows what he’d like to do, when it comes to Garrett’s friendship. He knows what he’d like to do when it comes to a lot of his relationships. He doesn’t actually know what’s going to happen when the time comes, how well reality matches up with his desires.

This isn’t about predicting the future, though, is it? This is about something else entirely.

“Yeah,” Bram says. “I think so.”

Garrett grins at the sky.

“All right,” he says. “Break time is over.”

Bram groans. “Seriously? That wasn’t even five minutes, you tyrant.”

Garrett leaps to his feet. “No rest for the wicked,” he says, offering a hand to Bram.

And Bram takes it.

-

After soccer practice is cold drinks at QuikTrip, which is less of a tradition and more of an obligation at this point. There’s something immeasurably satisfying about watching the slush of the knock-off ICEE machines in the back of the store pile into the cup, even if Bram knows from years of experience that they always look far better than they actually taste. Still, if five dollars can get him the largest possible size of a knock-off ICEE and two giant bags of Cool Ranch Doritos, there’s pretty much nothing he can complain about.

So Bram sits in the car with his knock-off ICEE - the flavor of which, as far as he can tell, can best be described as “blue” - and one of his two giant bags of Cool Ranch Doritos as Garrett gets gas. He leaves the driver’s door open, probably so he can crawl in and steal Bram’s Doritos when he feels like it. At this point, he might as well just give Garrett the second bag.

“You know,” Bram says contemplatively, “I think this is probably canceling out, like, every minute of practice this morning.”

Garrett snaps the chip in his hand between his teeth with a loud crunch. “Worth,” he intones.

A succinct but bitingly effective argument. Bram is duly impressed.

-

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Okay i think i can FINALLY get out of the house on Wednesday_ _  
_ _Thank the LORD_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Yes!_ _  
_ _Please come put me out of my misery, I’m so bored._

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Absolutely!!!_  
_Can I just say though I’m honestly kind of surprised they didn’t take the full week off for ~family bonding~_  
_This might even be the first year the Spiers haven’t taken a spring break trip! CAN YOU IMAGINE???_  
_It’s probably because Nora said she didn’t want to go to Disney World_ _  
Which is amazing in its own way_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _You mean your sister doesn’t want to go to a capitalistic death trap stuck with just your family and none of her friends?_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Excuse me??? Blasphemer?????_  
_Disney World is a magical place where all your dreams come true and you can fight me on this_ _  
Are you saying you’d never go?? Oh Bram I think this might be a dealbreaker_

 **Bram Greenfeld** _  
_ _I’d go to Disney World if I was going with you._

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Be still my beating heart_ _  
_ _I think that’s the most romantic thing a boy has ever said to me_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Wow. I really need to step up my cringey romance game, clearly._  
_Okay, how about this?_  
_I was reading Persuasion for English and there’s this letter at the end that the main guy writes to the main girl. It goes like this:_  
_“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” (Ch 23)_  
_And I know this is probably the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said, but it reminded me of you._  
_But I’m not half agony or half hope anymore. I’m a hundred percent in love with you._ _  
And that’s just the way it is._

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _Jesus Bram_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _So how was that? :)_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_The Disney thing was better_ _  
_ _(I’m a hundred percent in love with you, too. God, I’m so so in love with you)_

-

When you’re living in the metro Atlanta area, there are only so many things you can do when you want to hang out with your friends.

It’s a lot easier to get around now that everyone Bram knows drives, of course. Downtown Atlanta is really not that hard to get into. But sometimes it feels like their old habits of going to the movie theater and the mall and a nearby fast food restaurant and nowhere else are never going to die.

Not that he’d actually mind it, all things considered. So much of his time during the school year is spent either at soccer practice or at home studying, so getting any chance at all to get out of the house is probably one he should take very seriously.

Wednesday morning, he drives over to Simon’s house to join up with the whole gang. Leah and Nick and Abby. And Simon. They pile into Simon’s car, and then they proceed to spend the next hour driving around aimlessly because no one can decide what to do. Simon vetoes Six Flags on account of no one wants to spend a beautiful spring day waiting in endless lines for roller coasters that take less than a minute to ride, and perhaps on account of Bram’s delicate constitution. Abby vetoes Perimeter Mall on account of malls are too boring for a spring break hang out. Everyone vetoes the Georgia Aquarium on account of it being the grossest tourist trap there is.

Bram doesn’t really mind the driving around, either, even if it’s accompanied with endless bickering. He managed to snag a seat by the window, which means now he can rest his forehead against the glass, taking in the streets that pass them by. Atlanta really is beautiful in the spring, because from up close everything may be coated with a fine dust of yellow pollen but from afar that hardly even matters. There’s something about the white and pink flowers in the trees. The haphazardly put together architecture, beautiful brick buildings probably built at the beginning of the twentieth century right next to utilitarian metal and glass monstrosities. All the people, so many people of all different ethnicities and walks of life. There’s something to it all, something he wishes he could put into words. Maybe it’s just because this is the skyline he grew up with, but it really does feel kind of special to be in a city that both knows exactly what it wants to be, and doesn’t.

After a while, Abby finally tells them about a place called Sweet Hut on Buford Highway she’s always wanted to check out, so that’s where they go. Buford Highway, Bram knows, is one of those really diverse pockets of Atlanta, predominantly immigrant-owned businesses and communities for people of all sorts of Asian and Latino ethnicities, though he’s never had a real chance to check it out. Bram pokes at Simon’s elbow when they walk into Sweet Hut. “Look,” he says. “You’re totally a token white person right now.”

Simon turns to Bram, wide-eyed. “I know right? Isn’t it awesome?”

Bram grins at him. That response, somehow, is completely unsurprising.

-

Abby buys them all bubble tea, which Bram finds delicious even if the tapioca pearls at the bottom of the drink are a little perplexing, but all the tables in the place are already taken, so they end up going back to the car yet again. A ten minute impasse about where to actually eat turns into Simon putting his foot down and taking them to the nearest Zaxby’s, because “funding Chick fil A’s homophobia is something I’m contractually obligated to be against but I still want good fried chicken.”

They cram themselves into a booth by the window, and honestly even though it’s nothing fancy Bram still thinks the next hour is pretty great. Abby steals Nick’s fries off his plate when he isn’t looking, and Nick and Simon resolve a dispute over who should get more napkins with an intense game of footsie, and after Simon loses he stages his own death, grabbing hold of a plastic knife and plunging it into his chest so that he topples over his tray and splatters ketchup everywhere.

Leah snorts as Simon finally gets up to retrieve the napkins, which are now actually kind of necessary. “Your boyfriend’s a fucking dork,” she says to Bram.

“So is your best friend,” he says.

“Wow,” she says. “Touché.”

She’s silent for a bit, twisting a straw wrapper between her fingers.

“Have you guys talked about what colleges you’re going to apply to?” she says. Her voice sounds kind of weird, like she really wants to ask a different question. Bram doesn’t know her well enough to guess what that might be, though, so he just answers this one.

“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” he says.

Abby and Nick seem to have overheard, because they turn toward him. “I mean, we have to do them this fall,” Abby cuts in. “It’s not that far away.”

“Hm,” he says. “Well, then. No, I guess we haven’t.”

“Have you thought about it?” Leah says, looking at him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Have you?”

She looks down at the table. “Maybe not as much as I should have.”

He nods. “Me neither.”

Abby reaches for a fry. “Didn’t you say your mom works at the CDC? Have you thought about applying to Emory? You’re smart, you could totally get a scholarship or something. And it’s close to home.”

“UGA would be so much cheaper, though,” Nick points out. “Also can you stop stealing my food?”

“Never,” Abby says, sticking out her tongue. “And isn’t UGA kind of in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?”

“Excuse you, Athens is not the middle of bumfuck nowhere?! The music scene is _killer_.”

“Anyway,” Leah says loudly. “Bram?”

Bram shakes his head. “I really don’t know,” he says.

It’s true. He really hasn’t thought about things that far in advance yet. He knows he probably should. This is the time of high school you start looking up schools, going on college visits, figuring out what you want to do with your life. He hardly knows what he wants to study after high school, though. He hardly knows what he wants to do at all.

There is one thing he has thought about with regards to the whole college thing. And it’s that if he had the chance, if Simon got into a certain school and he got into that school too, well, it doesn’t really matter where else he got into, does it?

But he can’t exactly say that out loud. He already knows what people would say about it. That he’s young, and he has his whole future ahead of him, and he can’t just throw that away for a boy if he managed to get better opportunities.

And he supposes that’s all true. He knows it’s kind of naive for him to think he and Simon might have a chance of lasting after they graduate. But there are worse things to aspire to, aren’t there? He doesn’t know where he’s going to end up in five years or even where he wants to be, but he does know he’s spent way too much time without Simon by his side to let him go that easily.

“Well,” Leah says, “all I know is, I can’t wait to get out of this shit ass state.”

“What shit ass state?” Simon asks as he slides back into the booth, napkins in hand. “This shit ass state? Georgia?”

Leah sniffs. “Yeah, Georgia.”

“But it’s _our_ shit ass state,” Simon says. “What are you guys even talking about, anyway?”

“Where we’re going to apply for college,” Nick says, reaching for a napkin to wipe up the ketchup mess Simon made earlier. Seriously, their table looks like a knock-off Jackson Pollock painting.

“Oh,” Simon says. He glances at Bram.

He doesn’t say anything, though, because Nick changes the topic swiftly to the enormous difference between in-state and out-of-state tuition. And just like that, the moment is done.

-

Thursday morning, Simon drives over to Bram’s house, because Bram’s mom is at work and neither of them are above taking advantage of that opportunity. Honestly, Bram is pretty amazed at their self-restraint. They make it all the way up to Bram’s room before Simon kicks the door shut behind him and tackles Bram to his bed.

They’re such predictable teenage boys, Bram thinks, as Simon kisses his mouth, his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone. His hands slip under Simon’s shirt and slide across the ridges of his ribs to his back, counting the knobs of his spine with his fingertips. Such predictable teenage boys who can’t keep their hands off each other as soon as they have a moment of time alone, and right now they have a lot of moments of time alone, glorious, glorious hours of moments, and each moment feels like its own universe, each moment feels like another chance to breathe Simon in, in, in.

They’re such predictable teenage boys. Bram thinks he likes that about them.

-

“Yesterday,” Simon says, tracing his fingers along Bram’s collarbone.

“Yesterday,” Bram echoes, a little mesmerized by the feeling of Simon’s fingertips on his skin. Honestly, he doesn’t think he can be blamed for not being able to form coherent sentences right now.

“You had this look in your eyes,” Simon says. He tilts his head up, catches Bram’s gaze. Bram’s breath catches in his throat. “When everyone was talking about college.”

“What look?” Bram says.

Simon bites his lip. “Would you ever leave the state for college?” he says.

Bram shrugs. “Would you?”

Simon’s fingers trail up the side of Bram’s neck, so light a touch it nearly tickles. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe not. I mean, I’m not the only kid in my family, and it’d save my parents a lot of money if I stayed here.”

Bram nods. “That’s smart thinking.”

“But I really don’t know,” Simon says. “It would kind of depend on where you ended up at, to be honest.”

Bram can’t help but smile at that. “It would?”

“I mean,” Simon mumbles. If Bram didn’t know any better, he’d almost think his cheeks were turning pink. “I know it sounds kind of stupid, but.”

Bram’s arms tighten around Simon’s back. “It doesn’t,” he says. “Actually, I was thinking the same exact thing.”

Simon’s head snaps up. He looks at Bram for a long moment. And then he smiles, and it’s kind of like watching the sun rise. Slow, and bright, and beautiful.

“Wow,” Simon says. “Really?”

“I didn’t want to say it out loud,” Bram says. “In case people thought I was stupid.”

Simon laughs. “Well, geez. Clearly this is a sign we belong together.” His smile turns into a frown. “But… I don’t want to hold you back, you know that, right? And I know you wouldn’t want to do that to me, either.”

Bram reaches up, runs a hand through Simon’s hair. It’s so soft under his touch. “Maybe we could do this,” he says. “Maybe we could apply to schools in the same cities, and then just… See what happens.”

It’s not a certainty, he knows. They both know it. There’s a million factors that could affect something this important, each tiny thing with its own infinite set of potential outcomes. It all comes back to the future, it seems, and its sheer refusal to be known. The immense impossibility of it.

What else do they have, though? Maybe the best they can do is just to see what happens. Maybe that’s the best anyone can do.

Simon heaves a long sigh. “Gosh,” he says. “Thinking about the future is hard.”

Bram tangles his fingers in Simon’s hair. “So let’s not think about the future,” Bram says.

“Yeah?” Simon says, tilting his face up.

Bram looks at him for a long moment. He trails his hand down Simon’s temple. His cheekbones. His jaw. He presses his thumb gently against Simon’s lips, warm, slightly chapped. He can pinpoint the exact moment when Simon gets it. The awe in his eyes that turns slowly to fire.

“So let’s do something else,” Bram whispers, leaning their foreheads together.

So they do.

-

Bram leaves for Myrtle Beach with his mom Friday afternoon when she gets home early from work. It’s about a six hour drive when you factor in breaks, which means they don’t get to the hotel until nine. But his mom lets him play his music on the car speakers, not to mention they actually find a Five Guys on the way, and Bram’s pretty sure nothing could ruin the perfection of eating cold fries out of a greasy paper bag as Kid Cudi plays in the background.

Somehow they managed to grab a room in a place right at the beachfront, which means when Bram cracks the window open he can almost smell the ocean, right then and there. It’s a little intoxicating.

And he can definitely hear it. It’s the kind of sound that makes you feel so utterly at peace with yourself. Like even if something went wrong, it wouldn’t matter. Your insides are depthless. And this moment could go on forever.

That’s how he feels listening to Simon’s voice, too.

When they actually go down to the beach the next day the feeling inside him just grows stronger. It makes him want to do everything. It makes him want to do nothing, all at once.

It’s a fantastic few hours they spend out there. The water is so cool against his skin, and the sun is so hot on his face. After he gets out of the ocean he and his mom start walking down the shore, mostly in silence. It’s a years-old tradition between them, these long quiet walks. An unspoken habit they can always fall into without trying.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Simon. It’s barely been two days since they last saw each other, and Bram already misses him, the feeling of it a gaping hole in his chest. Still, having his words at his fingertips soothes the raw edges of it, just a little. Turns it into a slow ache rather than a sharp one.

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _Someone tell me why there are so many hours in the day separating right now from when you’re going to come back_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_I don’t know, but there’s really way too many, isn’t there?_ _  
_ _It should be more like zero hours._

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _EXACTLY_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Hey, look on the bright side though!_ _  
_ _It’ll be zero hours before you know it. :)_

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _Promise??_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _Promise. <3 _

Mom turns toward him after he finishes answering Simon’s text. “Who was that?”

“Simon.”

She must see something in his expression, perhaps his inability to keep a smile off his face, because she softens in a way he rarely sees her do.

“Next time we come up here, you could invite him,” she says.

Bram’s head turns toward her, almost of its own accord. He blinks. And then he stares.

“Wow,” he says. “That would be - ”

Amazing. Enormous. Mind-blowing.

A word he can’t find inside himself.

“That would be pretty great,” Bram says.

It’s not a sentence that matches up with what he feels. Not at all.

But there’s something in his voice. He can hear it, which means his mom can hear it too. She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. She smiles at him, and for a second everything is kind of numbly perfect. The wind blowing her dress around her legs, the cool water lapping at his toes. The gentleness of her palm on him, so comforting it makes his throat feel tight.

It’s like if he picked any point to freeze time, if the world would stop turning for just a second, if his life was a movie and he was capable of pausing it, this is the moment he’d choose.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It would.”

And life plays on.

-

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _I found a conch shell on the beach yesterday._

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_?!!?!?!?!?!?!_ _  
_ _That’s so cool!!!_

 **Bram Greenfeld** **  
** _I’m going to give it to you._

 **Simon Spier** **  
** _What?? Really???_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Looking at the ocean kind of reminds me of you._ _  
_ _So maybe I want to give you something that’ll make you think of me, too._

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Aw you don’t have to though_ _  
_ _I think of you all the freaking time_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Something you can touch, though, when I’m not there._ _  
_ _Something you can listen to._

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_… Okay that would be nice to have not gonna lie_ _  
_ _Question though - why does the ocean remind you of me??_

 **Bram Greenfeld** ****  
_Easy._ _  
_ _You both make me feel like I belong somewhere._

-

It’s supremely cool that Bram’s mom lets Simon come over the afternoon they return from Myrtle Beach. She’s already left for Publix to pick up groceries for the week by the time Simon gets there, which is an extraordinary level of trust Bram isn’t used to having. But he wasn’t planning on making out with Simon, anyway. As great as making out with Simon is, it’s not the only thing Bram likes to do with him.

Still, when Simon rings Bram’s doorbell, Bram can’t help himself. All the missing from the past two days and all the anticipation from knowing for the past fifteen minutes that Simon was on his way mixes together into a feeling that thrums in his chest like a drumbeat, and seeing Simon on his doorstep, his mussed up hair and his old wrinkled hoodie and his beautiful smile, makes all of it surge into an instinct that propels him forward. He cups Simon’s face in both hands, and leans in, and kisses him.

It would be crazy to expect him to wait any longer for this.

After a short while, or maybe a long one, Simon makes a small noise into his mouth. “Hey there to you, too,” he mumbles.

Bram pulls away. “You sound tired,” he says.

Simon rubs at his eyes. “Stayed up late watching horror movies. Leah’s idea. _Bad_ idea.”

“Oh, wow,” Bram says as he pulls Simon into the house and shuts the door behind him. “Probably shouldn’t have driven here, if you’re so tired.”

Simon grins at him lopsidedly. “There’s the boyfriend I missed. Always so concerned about driving safety.”

“Maybe you should take a nap,” Bram says.

Simon wraps his arms around Bram. “But I just got here,” he says petulantly. “I don’t wanna nap, I wanna see my boyfriend.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Bram says, pressing a kiss to Simon’s forehead. “Promise.”

“Cross your heart?” Simon says, squinting at him doubtfully.

“Cross my heart,” Bram says dutifully. “Come on.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long to get Simon in bed. He won’t let go of Bram, but Bram doesn’t mind at all. He can think of far, far worse things than lying in bed with his boyfriend in his arms, as close to sharing it with him as he’s ever been.

He wonders briefly if his mother will mind him closing the door, if she comes back before Simon wakes up. But he knows her trust isn’t misplaced, that all he would want to do with Simon in this room is sleep, that that’s all they’re ever going to do, at least this afternoon; and he hopes she knows that, too. Surely, there’s a reason she gave it to him.

“You’re always thinking so hard,” Simon says.

Bram looks down at him. He’s got this smile on his face, a very particular one. The soft sleepy one that looks like love itself.

“What makes you say that?” Bram says, trying not to be too distracted by it.

“I don’t know. It’s just the way you look, I guess. Right before you say something. It’s like you’re always getting ready to take a test.”

Bram almost wants to deny it, mostly because it feels like that’s what’s expected of him in a situation like this. To laugh and ask if that’s really how highly Simon thinks of him. To say that when he’s talking with Simon, he’s not thinking at all. When he’s talking with Simon, the silence inside him doesn’t feel empty; it never does.

Then again, maybe Simon does have a bit of a point. Because he wants to give Simon all the words inside of him, no matter what they say. But he also wants to make sure Simon wants to hear them.

It’s hard to think about, actually, this contradiction they’ve stumbled over. Hard to put into words. But maybe this is just the thing about being with Simon. There’s something about him that makes Bram want to be endlessly careful and recklessly brave all at once. Hold a beautiful boy’s heart in his hands, quietly, patiently, until he’s memorized the rhythm of his pulse; or make a song out of it, and dance to it, dance until the night ended. Do everything or do nothing, because either way it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d still be here.

“Is that a bad thing?” Bram says, raising an eyebrow. And yeah, maybe he gets what Simon is saying now. He spends so much time thinking of the right thing to say, and sometimes the worst feeling is when he can’t think of it at all.

“No, I guess not,” Simon says. “It just makes me think. Like, if I could read minds, maybe I could see something really awesome in there.”

Bram can’t help but laugh. “Really? It takes mind reading for you to figure that one out? Should I be offended?”

“No, no, no,” Simon says, shaking his head vigorously. He’s grinning now, too, happiness practically spilling over his edges. “Obviously whatever you’re thinking about at any time is just the most awesome thing ever. This is just an objective fact.”

Bram laughs again. He has his doubts about that one, but he’ll let it slide. The best feeling always is watching Simon be the cutest person in the universe.

“And I don’t mean, like,” Simon continues, words muted with exhaustion but with a weight that sounds like he means them, somehow, “I don’t mean you should - should feel pressured to say anything you don’t wanna say. That’s not what I mean at all. But, like, you have a beautiful brain. The most beautiful brain in the world. And I hope you know that.”

It’s pretty clearly sleepy rambling at this point, Simon’s eyes half-shut as his words stumble over themselves in a way that still manages to be kind of adorable. Bram tightens his arm around Simon, pulls him in close. Simon’s head falls in the crook between Bram’s face and shoulder, his breath warm against Bram’s neck. Something unspools in his chest like a string coming loose, and as it unravels it’s almost like he can feel his own heartbeat slowing down, bit by bit.

“You’re always thinking so hard,” Simon says, “and I love that about you.”

The words bury themselves under Bram’s skin, sinking into the marrow of his bones. He’s sure if his heart beats any harder, it might actually break free from his chest. Maybe grow wings. Learn how to fly.

“You love that about me, huh?” Bram says quietly.

Simon nods, breath seeping out of him in the slowest sigh Bram has ever heard him make. “I love everything about you,” Simon says, soft in a way that’s almost heartbreaking.

He shifts, after that. And his breathing starts to slow.

And Bram can’t stop looking at him. This cute, dorky, wonderful boy who gets under his skin in the very best of ways. Who always manages to say the things Bram wants to hear without even thinking about it. Who Bram finds himself in awe of, every single day they spend together, and all the days in between.

Yeah, he thinks he gets what Simon is saying, surprisingly enough. Or at least, what he’s trying to say.

And he doesn’t really know how to put that meaning into proper words. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

But then again, maybe that’s okay.

Maybe he doesn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> -So I reference a lot of real locations like Becky Albertalli does in the book, but I just want to take a moment to say the portrayal of Atlanta and the various locations I name-dropped in this fic is not meant to be, like, representative of everyone’s experiences/opinions about it? I mostly based it on my own personal experiences [or, well, my experiences as filtered through the lens of fictional characters who are quite different from me].
> 
> -If you haven’t watched The Way He Looks, I highly recommend it! It’s a Brazilian film about a blind boy who falls for the new kid at his school and it’s very sweet and charming. You can find it on US Netflix, the last I checked.
> 
> -The slushie drinks you can get at QT are called freezonis, but you couldn’t pay me to use that name in any fic ever.
> 
> -There is in fact a whole [wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chick-fil-A_same-sex_marriage_controversy) devoted to Chick fil A’s homophobia debacle from a few years back, just in case anyone out there doesn’t already know about it [was it a huge thing outside of the south?? i honestly have no idea].
> 
> -Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/) if you’d like!
> 
> That’s all I’ve got, for now. Thanks for reading!! <3


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